Good morning, Asilomar

There is a crisp bright feel about the morning here in Pacific Grove, California where I am writing with the Marlin Free Writers. Our ten-minute free write is a ritual that starts each session.

We lean into the journal write; one with a journal on her knee, others writing in journals on the table’s edge. A sigh here and there. Pens moving, moving. Two keyboards clicking, clicking. One writer on the floor with a laptop. Coffee cups, water bottles and a soft light spilling into our little windowed conference room.

I hear a wood dove intermittently and I turned off the projector just now to cut the hum. The morning is soo peaceful, clear and clean.

I have that kid-in-Kansas desire to be out of doors. With long practice from my elementary days, I simply gaze out the window, noting the play of light on the trunk of an immense old pine. It is up the road holding court from a stone wall embankment. It’s branches spread out to one side and sweep down to the dry ground, which is carpeted with needles.

I can hear voices from other cabins. But right now, I cannot hear the surf. It is probably calm right now as the air is still.

The space here is lovely, but what is most elegant is teachers — coaches, leaders — all very busy people, are taking the time to put their thoughts into writing. Free writing is the best exercise. And giving teachers time and space to do that exercise has been the main point.

Letting ourselves think on paper can be a discovery. Getting the writing muscles moving is as invigorating as those walks and runs we enjoyed yesterday afternoon down the long stretch of white sand backed by blue surf.

The timer chimes rang and I thought, “Awww…” I felt like I was just getting into gear.

Related

Those eager beavers at Two Writing Teachers (can there really only be two? So prolific!) have put out a reflective post inviting readers to check up on the One Little Word for the year.
On Jan. 6 my rambling discovery draft included this line:

I think I need to give myself a place in the whirlwind.

So it seems I am doing so.

Distinguishing my own voice and sitting still to meditate has changed the way I look at — just about everything. Self care is eating healthy and so is exercise, yes, but self care is so much — so much more.

On Wednesday morning I got a text from Lorena. We are new to the group although we shared a summer institute with the writers. We had invited ourselves by text one afternoon last month while planning a pd.

“Oh no!” I wrote back when she said the organizer, Susan, was going to work with Chrissy at the university on their seminar. The thought of no writing group, of my first one failing, felt terrible.

The photo from my little lime journal is a goal I wrote — the first note I made — in Anne Lamott’s writing seminar last spring. Dear Anne, so funny but also absolutely truthful about the complications of drawing the Artist’s card, told us that day every thing she knows about writing.

And the first thing she said has hung out in my notebook for months undone.

Lorena, who was texting me on the day of the group meeting, offered to get together at Crema and write and talk. I was at school multitasking but jumped at the chance, thinking she meant Wednesday. That one tiny word, tomorrow, slipped past my notice.

I was so grateful she would meet that I began not to mind that the rest of the group cancelled. After school I drove over to the coffee shop, enjoying the late afternoon sun. I got an orange Italian soda, began reading a new book that arrived, and eventually noticed, no Lorena.

I was so convinced we were meeting Wednesday I didn’t look at our string of texts. Instead I sent her the photo and asked if she was okay. Ah hah, now I know why my first writing group meeting was only me.

It does say something. It’s up to me to write. And yes, I need the feedback. I need someone, some trusted readers who will explain to me how my words affect them.